


hazy, honey

by peachenhun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 20's!AU, Alcohol, M/M, Smoking, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachenhun/pseuds/peachenhun
Summary: among the whirls of cheap liquor and loud jazz, jongdae finds someone along the way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello dear prompter! i really do hope this is to ur liking; this was a huge struggle to write and it's quite short, but i loved ur prompt too much to let it go. for a bit of mood music: [&](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYNEJITxi2Y) / [&](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Owm1oi8yLQ).

he runs, feet pounding the rocky ground until his soles start to hurt. his breathing is rough and a sharpness stabs at his chest, yet a whole grin stretches his mouth wide, cheeks aching. a loud laugh threatens to slip out as he hears the fast footsteps and booming voices behind them start to fall behind and trail off. 

sehun is only a few feet further away, the wind sifting through his dark hair as he runs. 

jongdae catches up, heart pounding against the steps of his ribs and the alcohol from before fuels him more when sehun faces him and smiles, teeth seeming sharp and eyes capturing the yellow glow from the street lamps. 

jongdae grabs sehun’s hand spontaneously, fingers intertwining, and feels his pulse climb up his throat.

 

the streets were submerged in shadow, and the soft clicking of his own steps serves as a distraction from the beating of his heart that’s a little too loud in his ears as he navigates his way through. he quickens his pace, almost scurrying, until the roads are almost empty and he spots an inconspicuous store that’s only illuminated with a single street lamp, the orange-ish light painting the cracked walls. 

jongdae wonders briefly if he should turn back, becoming increasingly high-strung as he walks closer. he shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat and balls them into fists.

his friends have been whispering and murmuring about numerous speakeasies that were popping up around town for the past week at work, triggering a tiny spark of curiosity in him. maybe jongdae had wanted a little thrill in his life, something electric to come back to – rather than spend another one of his bland nights in bed, books he didn’t much care about strewn over the sheets – because as soon as his shift was over he was already seeking out a joint, going over the password in his head over and over. 

jongdae’s eyes shift to the old and rusty sign hanging above; a shoe store, he notes, a quite odd but understandable way to hide illegal business. he laughs dryly. jongdae walks over to the back of the store, having to squeeze through a narrow alleyway in between before he spots a sturdy wooden door blending into the dark brown of the walls. jongdae swallows the lump in his throat, thinks again about the thrill, and raises his hand to knock.

a rectangular peephole snaps open, and hard eyes stare back at him.

“how can i help you,” a voice drawls out, and jongdae feels a sort of relief at hearing another voice break the silence of the night.

jongdae clears his throat. “coffin varnish,” he murmurs, loud enough for the doorman to hear. he sees an eyebrow quirk up, and then the door is swinging open. 

“the one to the right, take the stairs down,” the doorman instructs. jongdae nods.

 

— 

 

the loud brass accompanied by the fast beat of the drums fills the tiny speakeasy with an energy that rushes like lightning through jongdae as he downs a shot of cheap whiskey, the smokiness burning his throat and forcing his eyes to squint. he watches smoke curl in the air, issued from the glowing amber end of a cigarette, white wisps resembling lithe figures performing a slow dance under the light of the bar. the scent of tobacco tickles at his nose and he almost sneezes.

with a slight slouch, he plops his elbow on the countertop and rests his chin in the palm of his hand, hazily watching the people dance right beneath the raised platform of the small stage. he surveys the crowd, eyes landing on a man with sharp features (perhaps even pretty) and styled dark hair dancing with a girl whose lips are coloured in a bright poppy, the hem of her black dress fluttering as she spins.

the alcohol muddles up jongdae’s thoughts and he simply stares at the man, mouth scrunched up. he has a toothy grin on his face as he watches the girl move, the roaring music seeming to fill him up more with life.

perhaps jongdae gets a little lost in tracing out his features because the music is now over and the man is staring back, the girl dancing at his side gone. jongdae almost jumps out of his seat, arm bumping into his empty glass as he retreats it back to his side. 

the man’s mouth is formed into a small ‘o’, but it’s soon replaced by a sort of kind, knowing smile, and he nods, curt. 

jongdae raises a brow, but hopes the heat creeping up in his cheeks isn’t too obvious. 

 

the night has already ate away at the vibrant light of day and jongdae is shrugging on his coat, the chill in his fingers making him jerk as he presses into a tiny ache lodged in the back of his neck. he sucks in a breath and starts to head to the back exit of the diner, seeing minseok polishing tables out front with an old washcloth. he shoots jongdae a smile and nods, silently dismissing him for the night. 

jongdae passes by jongin who’s slouched over the kitchen countertop, a rag in hand and rubbing away at a spot, brows furrowed.

“oh, dae,” jongin calls out, still focused on cleaning, “not stayin’ with us tonight to close up?”

jongdae rubs at his neck, shaking his head. “got somewhere to be,” he answers. “have a good night, jongin.” he heads to the exit, pushing the door open halfway before jongin’s voice rings out.

“where you off to?” jongin asks, finally looking up, his neck craned forward.

jongdae turns, lips quirking up. “somewhere.” 

 

—

 

it’s him, jongdae notes, shifting in his seat and leaning forward just the slightest to catch a glimpse.

the man is seated right at the opposite end of the bar, conversing with the lanky bartender who has his back to jongdae, obscuring half of the man’s features. jondgae can just see his teeth showing as he laughs, shoulders shaking lightly. 

he hasn’t really figured out on why he came back here; maybe it was the vibrant people or the way cheap alcohol burned his throat as it went down and set his body alight, or the music that filled the room with so much vigor and controlled the movements of people with invisible hands pulling at invisible strings. but there’s a thought itching at the back of his mind that perhaps he was only here to steal another look at the man he saw just two nights ago. 

jongdae watches the man wrap slim fingers around the half full glass of liquor placed on the countertop, the light catching the crystalline when he brings it up to his mouth. jongdae’s eyes travel down the length of the man’s throat and doesn’t realize he’s holding in a breath.

he shifts his gaze back up to the man’s face, and he swears he feels his own heart trying to claw its way out of his bones when the man’s dark eyes look back, a simper hidden behind the smudged glass in his hand. jongdae quickly looks down at the countertop, fingers absentmindedly tracing random shapes into the wood, willing his racing pulse to slow down.

for a while, the music distracts him, just loud enough to drown out his thoughts. he taps his foot, fingers knocking against wood to follow the quick beat. 

“i hope this isn’t a bad time to ask if you’d like to dance.”

jongdae’s skin crawls, shoulders stiffening and he turns his head, eyes blinking rapidly.

there’s a smile plastered on the man’s lips, his hands folded behind his back. his voice is smooth like oil, just slightly unsteady and on the edge of sounding raspy but pleasant to hear just the same.

“uh…” jongdae stutters out, the words clogging up his throat. “i–i don’t really... know how to.”

the man stares, eyebrows raised. tendrils of heat curl up jongdae’s neck.

“well,” the man starts, “i can show you how.” and he holds out a hand, jongdae hesitantly grabbing on and standing up. he quietly yelps when he’s pulled towards the small dancefloor, the music growing louder. 

he isn’t sure how much time has passed but it all goes by in a flurry. jongdae mostly watched the man move to the melody, tapping his foot to the clanging piano and attempting to imitate every spin and shuffle, but he soon loses himself in the music, movements fluid and a wide smile plastered on his face.

“you’re a natural oliver twist!” the man shouts over the thumping music, grinning and jongdae simply laughs. 

“i didn’t quite catch your name,” jongdae says, when they’re off to the side and the music’s become softer, the brass now belting out a mellow tune.

“that’s because i never gave it,” the man replies, chortling when a light pink flushes jongdae’s cheeks. 

“it’s sehun.”

a small feeling rises in his chest, pleased from finally getting to know the man’s name. “jongdae.”

sehun leans forward, arms folded over his chest and a certain playfulness hidden in the curve of his mouth. “well, jongdae, if i might ask, what is it about me that made you stare?”

jongdae’s caught off guard, face blank as he tries to think up a response in a limited time.

the yellowish light paints the planes of sehun’s face, eyelashes casting short, stark shadows across his cheeks and eyebrows seemingly pinched in an ever-present frown. maybe it was the glasses of liquor he’d downed just an hour ago still mixing in his blood, but he feels bold when he inches closer, just until he can smell the scent of tobacco stuck to the fabric of sehun’s shirt.

“last time i checked, it wasn’t a terrible crime to appreciate pretty faces.”

sehun’s eyes widen a fraction, and the boldness that was swelling in jongdae just moments ago shatters into pieces, and he’s left holding the broken shards. an excuse for the ridiculous statement is on jongdae’s tongue, and he clears his throat before sehun pipes up.

“you’re quite an odd fella,” he says, lips twitching in an attempt to fight off a smile.

jongdae lets out a laugh, hoping the surprise in his voice isn’t that noticeable. “and so are you.”

 

the muffin is delicately broken in half, a shower of crumbs spilling out onto the chipped porcelain plate. the warmth of the pastry seeps into jongdae’s skin as he takes a bite, the sweetness coating his mouth. the sunlight bleeds in through the large glass window, and he has to squint as the light hits his face.

jongin sits opposite him with a weathered book in hand, bored eyes skimming through, cheek resting on his fist. his cup of tea is set untouched on the table, slowly turning tastelessly lukewarm.

the diner is always closed on sundays, and jongdae follows through with his morning routine of returning to the tiny cafe that’s just a few blocks down from his flat, jongin almost always insisting to tag along.

the chatters of the patrons flit about around them, and jongdae drowns himself in his own stream of thoughts as he stirs at his coffee, watching it swirl.

sehun crosses his mind, and he wonders briefly on last night – (“i do hope we’ll be seeing each other again often,” sehun had said, plopping down on a bar stool. “i’ll even sit here all week in wait if it means meeting again,” he jokes, and jongdae labels him odder than ever.) – and he quietly chuckles to himself, the air bubbles that swam in his coffee popping.

“you’re not ossified are you?” jongin speaks up, voice slicing through jongdae’s thoughts. he snaps his head up, lips pursing. “you looked almost in love with your coffee,” jongin teases, setting his book down in his lap and taking a sip from his already lukewarm tea, making a face at the taste.

“i am not.”

“well, you look all… lovey.” jongin thinks, and his expression turns smug. he leans in. “carryin’ a torch for someone?”

“don’t be ridiculous,” he replies, but heat flushes his neck and he shakes his head in annoyance.

“c’mon,” jongin prods on, “who is it?”

jongdae wrinkles his nose, remembers sehun’s round-like smile when he laughs, eyes forming crescents. he mentally bats that memory away.

he forces a small smile. “it’s no one.”

 

this time it’s different, much more lively and striking, and jongdae finds himself falling in love with the nightlife as hours pass. 

sehun had tugged him away from the tiny, dim speakeasy and off to a newer direction (“with better music and drinks, better everything,” he’d said, grip on jongdae’s hand tight.) and jongdae wonders if sehun knows every hidden location of every speakeasy in town.

a chandelier hangs from the ceiling, crystalline droplets swaying and tinkling as the music reverberates off the walls. the strings and piano twine together to deliver a mellifluous tune, the singer on stage crooning along, her voice carried on with fumes of sweet perfume and cigarette smoke, intermingling with the buzzing around him. 

“drinks?”

jongdae snaps out of his thoughts as sehun sets down two glasses on the table with a loud thud, both of them fizzy tom collins’. the cold glass sweats over his fingers as he takes a sip, the sourness of the lemon making his lips curl. jongdae observes sehun slip a cigar between his lips and light it with a practiced ease, cupping a hand around the flame. 

they start slow, easing into a budding conversation. jongdae watches sehun’s mouth move around his words, the smoke that curls around him looking like a spell being cast.

“what do you do?”

sehun stops for a moment, hums. “some… jobs here and there.”

jongdae raises a brow, and sehun shoots him a kittenish smile. “to tell you the truth, i meddle with gangs every once in awhile,” sehun continues, his voice lowered.

jongdae blinks in awe. “ever been close to death?” 

sehun laughs, white wisps swimming out from his lips. “well, i have been close to being arrested.”

“been on the lam?”

sehun nods.

“and you?” sehun tilts his head in question.

“i’m just a simple waiter,” jongdae answers, “not as interesting as what you’re doing.” 

sehun clicks his tongue. “i doubt that.”

maybe the gin’s getting to his head (possibly not, he doesn’t think he’s that much of a lightweight) because everything feels pleasantly hazy, staring when sehun takes a final drag from his cigarette, crushing the stick in a nearby ashtray, the red hot glow at the tip dying.

the singer’s voice rings in his head, alluring and warm; oh honey, oh honey, i never felt this way, and sehun looks at him, eyes dark enough to catch the white lights from above.

“you’re staring again.”

a shameless smile tugs at the corners of jongdae’s mouth. “do you mind?”

sehun ponders. “not quite.”

 

it happens in a flurry, like a spool of thread quickly unravelling with a hard continuous tug. 

sehun’s drunk himself silly, red fanning across his cheeks right down to the jut of his collarbones, and he giggles at every horrible joke jongdae tells. he raps his knuckles against the wood of the bar to the beat of swing being played on the stage. 

“ah, we should dance, dae,” sehun sighs, and jongdae feels fond at being called by his nickname.

before he could even get a word out, a whistle was blown, so shrill that it pierces deep into his ears and leaves them ringing. sehun’s fingers freeze and he shoots up out of his chair, swiftly grabbing onto jongdae’s forearm and tugging him up. “we have to leave,” sehun says, urgency in his voice yet he remains calm, almost as if he’s gone through this a multitude of times. jongdae supposes he has.

the wooden door of the entrance bursts into splinters and a shower of dust, hacked open with only two swings of an axe before the screaming starts and policemen filed in one by one, yelling orders as everyone scrambled in a frenzy to escape, the music ending on a dissonant note. jongdae’s heart climbs up his throat with sharp fingers and he looks to sehun, who quickly tangles their fingers together. “this is always the fun part,” sehun muses, and jongdae thinks he’s gone crazy. “just follow me.”

and sehun’s weaving them through the crowd, quickening his pace when the policemen were distracted by the alarmed throng, stumbling through the gaping hole in the door and tripping up the stairs. shouts start behind them and footsteps dash after, and jongdae runs faster, panic rising. 

they’re finally out, the cold breeze hitting their faces and sinking under their skin. anxiety pulses through jongdae, thighs burning and he grips sehun’s hand tighter until his fingers almost feel numb. 

they run and run, sehun leading them through alleyways and twisting roads, attempting to lose the police that were hot on their trail. jongdae felt as if his legs would snap until sehun tugged them both into a gap between two shops wide enough to hide in, darkness blanketing their figures. jongdae slaps a hand over his mouth to quiet his hard breathing, chest heaving and throat so dry it hurts to swallow.

the quick steps finally pass by them and a relief washes over jongdae, the rapid pumping of blood through his veins slowing down. they don’t speak until a heavy silence has settled in the air and their breathing has calmed, the only sound being the breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees.

jongdae tries not to explode.

“that was absolutely stupid!” he hisses, “the fun part, you said?! you’re screwy!”

sehun’s face splits into a grin and he laughs, breathless, both hands coming up to cup jongdae’s jaw.

“thank you, dae,” sehun says, his voice soft, and his face inches closer. jongdae’s brows knit together in confusion, his pulse skipping a beat.

“what–” jongdae trails off, and his breathing stops when sehun fits his mouth on his, thumbs pressing gently under his jaw. time trickles past slowly, and sehun tilts his head to press deeper, lips tasting like the last glass of whiskey sour he had. 

jongdae soon breaks out of his reverie once he notices just exactly where they were, and he pulls away roughly, hastily checking their surroundings, palm flat on sehun’s chest.

“that was a risky move,” he says, trying to sound firm but it only comes out as a weak mutter.

“i’m a risky man,” sehun voices out, beaming, and his hands travel to the back of jongdae’s neck, fingers twisted in his ruffled hair.

“you’re drunk,” jongdae babbles, not making any move to bat away sehun’s hands. he breathes heavy, staring at the ridiculous smile on sehun’s face, and he slowly dissolves into exhilarated giggles. “you’ve lost your damn mind.”

“maybe i have.”

 

after a while, this silly infatuation grows and stitches together to form something more, and jongdae thinks he could be falling.

they see each other almost every night now, sehun bringing him to different joints that are bubbling with nightlife just the same, and whisking him away to dance until the night crumbles into early day and they’re both blanketed in a buzzing warmth as they walk home.

sehun tells him the most oddest of stories sometimes, spinning a web of stories with deft fingers, using his words to complete the threads, a thumb grazing across jongdae’s knuckles. if it was even possible, sehun grows bolder than before, intent on giving a kiss every time they meet no matter where they were, yet jongdae thinks otherwise (“cash or check?” sehun asks each time they’ve found a spot secluded enough, eager, until jongdae presses a finger against sehun’s mouth. “bank’s closed, honey,” he answers, apologetic). but sehun doesn’t get upset, never does.

(they share enough kisses when they’re tucked away in jongdae’s flat, sehun’s fingers trailing down his spine and a hand on his thigh.

“you know, i’ve never kissed a fella before,” jongdae breathes, and he tastes tobacco on sehun’s mouth, “until you.”

and sehun beams softly, eyelashes quivering when he leans in again.)

 

he shows up on jongdae’s doorstep unplanned one night, a hip flask filled with rum tucked into his belt.

jongdae’s already in his nightclothes, eyebrows raised as sehun almost waltzes in.

“sehun? why–“

“it really is so lonely without you, dae,” sehun cuts his question short, plopping down on the beat-up couch in the living room. “feels as if i should sweep in and move in with you.” jongdae titters, wonders for a moment if the alcohol is talking for him.

he watches sehun drink from the flask and listens to his absent-minded chatter, a finger drawing circles into the palm of sehun’s open hand.

“you drink too much,” jongdae notes.

sehun looks to the flask in his grip, gleaming under the light, and he lets out a funny sigh. “maybe you’re right.”

they dance after, the tiny space of the living room acting as their dancefloor as a favourite, scuffed up record of jongdae’s plays in the background, the crackles and pops bouncing off the thin walls of his flat. sehun’s hand is on his lower back, heat seeping into his skin as he spins once, laughing as he stumbles and almost bumps into the coffee table. his hand gripped sehun’s shoulder, pliant as sehun steers them both until their movements melded in with the soft tune of the music. sehun buries his nose into jongdae’s hair and hums, deep in his throat, and jongdae’s stomach flutters.

 

–

 

jongdae comes out of the bathroom with his mouth fresh, mint on his tongue when he sees sehun upright in his bed, patting over his own chest as if searching. 

“jongdae,” he calls out, almost slurring his words, and he’s obviously on the cusp of inebriation. “i can’t seem to find my heartbeat.” he frowns.

jongdae almost snickers and walks over to his bed. “why on earth do you need to find it?”

sehun’s lips twisted into a pout. “just because.”

jongdae shakes his head and sits down by his side, deciding to humour himself. “here.” a cold hand slips up sehun’s shirt and a shiver trips up his spine as jongdae places a hand right over the beating of his heart, warmth spilling into jongdae’s fingers. sehun radiates heat, and jongdae thinks of the morning sun shining its bright rays on a frigid day. “found it,” he says, almost dreamy. 

“oh,” sehun exhales, eyes transfixed on jongdae.

seconds pass and he feels sehun’s heart tap against his ribs, counting the number of beats in his head.

“the edges of your lips curve up,” sehun notices, “just like a cat’s.”

“hm.”

and jongdae inches closer and mouths along sehun’s jaw before meeting his lips, tongue tracing the seam of them. sehun groans quietly, and it’s like a final puzzle piece has been put, and jongdae feels complete, clicking into place.

 

“you’re all dressed up.”

sehun fingers the collar of jongdae’s shirt and dusts the lint off his shoulders.

“just for you,” jongdae says, and sehun kisses the corner of his mouth.

he pulls away and stands near the doorway of his flat, looking back at jongdae.

“ready?”

jongdae thinks of roaring music and bodies moving through hazy puffs of smoke, vibrancy to be found at every corner of the room.

he nods, a smile spreading on his face, slow and honey-like. “ready.”


End file.
